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jazzfishRight, so, I've been hiding.
About the only non-hidey thing I've done has been to go out to a party last Friday night, at which I expected to know no one, in the hopes that I would Meet Some People. This worked about as well as you might think:
8-9: Hold occasional scattered bits of conversation.
9-11: Hey,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rainbowk and company are here! Spend two hours in a good conversation with them.
11-12: Hold occasional scattered bits of conversation.
Around midnight I involved myself in a political discussion / multiperson rant, on the theory that we're all likely to be on more or less the same side, being a buncha pinko commie hippies and all. That came to an abrupt end when the person I was talking to professed a sincere belief in a conspiracy that's been controlling all governments etc for thousands of years. At that point there's really not much discussion that can be had, so I turned to the guy in tie-dye on the other side of me. Turns out he's from Floyd county, next-door to Blacksburg where I lived for ten years. He's also an unreformed Black Helicopters and UFOs type himself, as were a not insignificant number of other people in the room.
I wanted to shake them all, and shout "STOP MAKING MY SIDE LOOK BAD!" This would have been a bit awkward, so instead I made my excuses and left at the earliest possible opportunity.
(There is a tiny sense of exultant power that comes with riding the bus late at night, and knowing how to navigate the maze of twisty little bus routes. I'm rather enjoying living in the city without a car.)
So anyway, hiding. This mostly expresses itself through not wanting to do anything except play stupid computer games over and over, or comfort reading, or things of that sort. I would very much like to have been doing, say, Xmas shopping (somewhat more time-sensitive as nearly everything needs to be shipped internationally, unless we want to take a trip down to Point Bob and use their post office), or, you know, WRITING, but I just.couldn't.do.it.
... an exploration of what exactly I was hiding from, and what I can do about that, will have to wait until I'm a bit more awake.
About the only non-hidey thing I've done has been to go out to a party last Friday night, at which I expected to know no one, in the hopes that I would Meet Some People. This worked about as well as you might think:
8-9: Hold occasional scattered bits of conversation.
9-11: Hey,
rainbowk and company are here! Spend two hours in a good conversation with them.11-12: Hold occasional scattered bits of conversation.
Around midnight I involved myself in a political discussion / multiperson rant, on the theory that we're all likely to be on more or less the same side, being a buncha pinko commie hippies and all. That came to an abrupt end when the person I was talking to professed a sincere belief in a conspiracy that's been controlling all governments etc for thousands of years. At that point there's really not much discussion that can be had, so I turned to the guy in tie-dye on the other side of me. Turns out he's from Floyd county, next-door to Blacksburg where I lived for ten years. He's also an unreformed Black Helicopters and UFOs type himself, as were a not insignificant number of other people in the room.
I wanted to shake them all, and shout "STOP MAKING MY SIDE LOOK BAD!" This would have been a bit awkward, so instead I made my excuses and left at the earliest possible opportunity.
(There is a tiny sense of exultant power that comes with riding the bus late at night, and knowing how to navigate the maze of twisty little bus routes. I'm rather enjoying living in the city without a car.)
So anyway, hiding. This mostly expresses itself through not wanting to do anything except play stupid computer games over and over, or comfort reading, or things of that sort. I would very much like to have been doing, say, Xmas shopping (somewhat more time-sensitive as nearly everything needs to be shipped internationally, unless we want to take a trip down to Point Bob and use their post office), or, you know, WRITING, but I just.couldn't.do.it.
... an exploration of what exactly I was hiding from, and what I can do about that, will have to wait until I'm a bit more awake.